It is difficult for me to accept what
I have done. Perhaps I should not. Perhaps I should not have done it. But
then, I am a king and a father. who is to tell me what
I should not do? Who is to tell me what I should not do to my
own son? Amelia would not have agreed with my
choice, were she still alive.
I have bloodied my hands. I have bloodied my hands before. I am beginning to believe that I have been the vessel of a family tradition of sorts, a history that will outlive me. I must believe that my deeds will be remembered.